


All Together Now

by Providentia67



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort, Dark Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Sympathetic Dark Sides (Sanders Sides)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Providentia67/pseuds/Providentia67
Summary: Their collective world can fall apart all it wants, but Game Nights are something sacred.  While Deceit handles things with the Light Sides, Virgil and Remus keep themselves occupied while waiting for the third member of their party to return.  Hair will be braided, nails painted, and a Jenga tower will fall.---With a wiggle of fingers, Remus bends over to poke at different blocks.  Concentration forms a furrow between his brows and the pink tip of a tongue sticks out from between his lips.  “Let’s see here…”  As he moves up and down the tower, a thud echoes from above and the pair freezes.They both look up, considering the muffled voices coming from above.  “They’re sure getting heated,” says Remus.  “You positive you don’t need to be up there?”  He’s the first to look down, staring across the counter to Virgil, who lowers his focus slower until their eyes meet.  Remus is trying to hide it, but there is an edge of unease in the trembling of his grin.  An expectation, and a disappointment.Virgil considers a moment, then huffs.  “Nah, Deceit said he’d handle it.  Besides, it’s Game Night.”  Remus’ smile stretches wide, and Virgil can’t help but match it.  “That means no Light sides.”
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 327





	All Together Now

The wood block trembles ever so slightly in his grip, wavering upon the precipice of order and ultimate chaos. Virgil holds his breath and stills, not daring even the smallest twitch as he prepares to make his move. He can hear the air conditioner above his head whirr with the strain of holding back the humid, Florida heat. There is sweat on his brow, slipping on the crest of his upper lip, and across from him, he can smell Remus’ cloying odor wafting through his nostrils.

“Hey, Remus?”

“Hm?” The dark half of Creativity blinks as innocently as he can across the teetering Jenga tower and smiles, lips curling upwards under the length of his mustache. “Need something, Virgie?”

He doesn’t dare shift his body more than to wave his right hand in a vague gesture for space. “Can you… back up a bit?”

“Ooh?” Remus snickers, sending a wet splash of spit and brine across Virgil’s face. “Having some trouble there?”

 _“No.”_ He glares across the rickety construct until the other dark side finally acknowledges the hint and takes an obliging step back, hands lifted in the air. “Thank you.” A deep breath to center himself, and Virgil pulls, easing the block out from the tight quarters of the tower’s third level and into the free air. For a moment everything sways, and even Remus’ cheeks puff as he holds in his breath. After a moment, the tower stills and Virgil lets out his breath in a sigh.

Remus claps his hands, nodding in appreciation. “Smooth move there, emo. Now, can you finish?”

“You bet your ass I can.” By the way Remus’ eyes brighten, Virgil is sure the grin he has is feral, but he’s not going to even try and hide it. Tonight of all nights, he’s allowed to be as cut throat as he wants. Spinning the Jenga block between his fingers, Virgil takes a deep breath and positions the wood parallel to the two other blocks already laid out atop the tower. It slots into place with a wonderfully satisfying click. “Mm! Booyah!” Virgil pumps his fist in a tight gesture of victory and then crosses his arm on the kitchen counter. “Beat that.”

“Easy.” With a wiggle of fingers, Remus bends over to poke at different blocks. Concentration forms a furrow between his brows and the pink tip of a tongue sticks out from between his lips. “Let’s see here…” As he moves up and down the tower, a thud echoes from above and the pair freezes.

They both look up, considering the muffled voices coming from above. “They’re sure getting heated,” says Remus. “You positive you don’t need to be up there?” He’s the first to look down, staring across the counter to Virgil, who lowers his focus slower until their eyes meet. Remus is trying to hide it, but there is an edge of unease in the trembling of his grin. An expectation, and a disappointment.

Virgil considers a moment, then huffs. “Nah, Deceit said he’d handle it. Besides, it’s Game Night.” Remus’ smile stretches wide, and Virgil can’t help but match it. “That means no Light sides.”

“Sweet.” Newly excited, Remus cracks the knuckles of his hands and rolls his shoulders before instigating a series of light taps against the wooden tower. He pokes and drags a single fingernail up and down until finally, a good quarter of the way down, one of only two remaining blocks in a level gives way. Lips flattened by the clenching of his jaw, Remus peeks over the rickety construct to watch Virgil tangle his fingers in his hair. “Breathe, Anxiety,” he reminds the other side.

Virgil doesn’t look away, physically can’t if Remus’ guess is correct, but the loose set of his hoodie does sway in time with a slow and deliberate inhale. Remus holds still, fingers poised on the wooden piece rotated a good sixty degrees out from under the tower, and counts for four seconds. Only when Anxiety’s shoulders start to dip in an exhale does he start moving again, deftly slipping the piece free with his own little puff of relief. “Phew,” Remus digs his fingers in the back of his head, rubbing at his hair in an attempt at frenzied catharsis. Lifting himself in a delicate ballet pointe, he deposits the piece at the very top of the tower. 

The whole thing sways, unable to find equilibrium in the mismatched balance of its upper half. Remus watches with unconcealed glee as Virgil visibly despairs. With a low moan he drags both hands down his face, carefully avoiding the deep eye shadow beneath his eyes. Pulling at the skin of his cheeks, Virgil groans. “Ugh, that’s so not structurally sound.”

Remus smirks. “You’re up, Skeletor.”

Planting his hands on the counter surface, Virgil drops his head, loose bangs swaying with the circulating breeze of the air conditioner. He holds that position for a moment, then freezes, one finger held up. “Hang on.” When he looks across the table at Remus, his expression is filled with righteous vindication. “Not my turn,” he says, rotating his wrist to point a single finger upwards. “It’s his.”

“Oh, come on!” Remus leans back and sets his hands on his hips, head slipping limp on one shoulder. “He could be up there all night!”

Virgil shrugs, picking at the chipped coat of his black nail polish and completely ignoring the bemoaning display. “Not my problem,” he says, blowing black flakes from his middle finger with a quiet huff. “If the tower falls between now and then, you lose.”

The smirk Virgil sends Remus is absolutely evil and the duke is LOVING it. He returns it with his own open-mouthed grin. “You skeevy little spinster,” he says, pantomiming a stab to the chest. “And what’re we supposed to do in the meantime? Braid your bangs?” 

Wait.

Actually though, Virgil gives a considerate look to the curtain of dark hair shading half his face before darting his focus back to Remus. “You braid, I paint?” he asks, wiggling the fingers of his left hand.

“Deal.” Careful not to disturb the fragile Jenga tower, Remus races Virgil to the couch, vaulting himself over the chair arm and crossing his legs on the bouncing seat cushion. Hands plant themselves on his shoulders and not a second later Virgil is leap-frogging over his head, all at once providing Remus with a lap full of Anxiety, complete with a polishing kit tucked under his arm. They shuffle for a moment, searching for a comfortable arrangement, before Remus starts dragging his fingers through Virgil’s hair and the other side snaps open the box in his lap. The slight burning smell of alcohol fills the space as Virgil begins clearing the old paint from his nails and Remus divides the hair in his hands into three separate partitions.

“Hey,” says Remus. “When are you going to dye your hair again?”

“Hm?” Virgil hums, nail polish cap held between his teeth as he waits for the layer of primer to dry. Carefully taking the brush between two fingers, he clears his throat. “You mean the purple?”

“Yeah.” With a twist of will a standing mirror conjures itself on the opposite end of the couch so that the pair can see themselves in its reflection. Remus rubs the lock of hair held in his fingers and watches in the mirror as Anxiety’s hair takes the color of deep mauve. “I thought you said you liked it.”

Virgil considers their reflection for a while before going back to his painting. “I do,” he says with a small shrug. “But we’ve been doing this whole, solidarity thing,” he says, making a vague gesture to nowhere. “Thomas hasn’t decided if he wants to or not.” That said, he doesn’t will the color away.

“So?” Summoning a clip between his fingers, Remus pins the end of the french braid he’s made across Virgil’s bangs beside his ear. He then runs his fingers through the shock of white that decorates his own hair and admires it in his reflection. “Do what you want, who cares?”

“Is that your excuse for the mustache?” Virgil smirks over his freshly painted nails and shifts so that he is sitting across from Remus instead of on top of him. Settling his hands to dry at his sides, he lounges back on the opposite couch arm and props his feet up on Remus’ knees.

Remus smirks, playing with the toes of Virgil’s socked feet. “Jealous cause you can’t grow facial hair?”

Virgil kicks at his shin with half-hearted effort. “Not even a little,” he says.

“Tell yourself whatever you want, baby-face.”

They bicker, get into an aggressive game of footsie, and decide to paint Remus’ nails in a rainbow before a sense of finality and peace wafts down to them from somewhere up above. Whatever mess Thomas has decided to saddle himself with after their collective trainwreck of an evening seems to have been sorted out, and that means the hold out of their group should be returning any minute now. Without a word, Remus and Virgil’s focus immediately shifts from the duke’s colorful new paint job to the Jenga tower still somehow standing erect on the kitchen counter.

“Bet you Logic’s unicorn onesie he tried to impersonate you,” says Remus, as he reclaims his spot on one end of the table.

Virgil scoffs. “As if Logan would let you anywhere near his room.” Slouching on a bar stool, he watches the door to his room. “But fine, you’re on.” They bump fists to the side of the Jenga tower and wait for Deceit’s inevitable return.

It takes longer than either of them expect, but when Virgil’s door does creak open, they are surprised to find Deceit’s entrance a rather subdued one, neither storming through in a frustrated rage nor slinking inside with smug satisfaction. Rather, if not for the fact that he returned there rather than to his own room, Remus would suspect the snake of having forgotten their presence entirely.

“You good, D?” asks Virgil, the concerned twist in his expression significantly handicapped by the state of his hair. 

Deceit looks up from where he’s been staring at his gloved right hand and meets both of their eyes. “I did it,” he says. “I- I actually did it.”

“You won!?” Instantly, and with great gusto Remus summons a spray of confetti above Deceit’s head and fills his own hands with tiny celebratory flags. Between his lips he conjures a kazoo, blowing it several times in congratulations before spitting it out. “¡Felicidades!” 

A smile builds itself up slowly on the snake’s face and he tips himself into a dramatic -if somewhat humoring- bow before focusing more intently on Virgil. “I did do that, yes. Thank you, Remus,” he says. “But I also- uh, I also told them my name.”

The flags go limp in Remus’ hands before evaporating in a puff of smoke and, unnoticed by everyone, the Jenga tower tips, sending wood blocks scattering across the counter. “You’re shitting me.”

Deceit shrugs. “And it mostly… went only marginally horrible.”

“Holy crap,” says Virgil. 

Stray confetti still strewn across his shoulders and stuck in the lip of his bowler hat, Deceit lifts his arms and does his best pair of jazz hands. “Surprise?”

“Janny!” Remus launches himself across the room, neatly elbowing Virgil out of the way as he wraps himself around Deceit like the world’s oiliest koala. He presses his cheek against the scaly side of Janus’ face. “Who knew you had the balls?”

“Move over, Slime-O.” Virgil -the bony little shit- hip-checks Remus off his perch, nimbly stepping in to give Janus his own hug while Deceit’s bowler hat goes tumbling to the ground. “You did it? Really?” he asks, stepping back and planting his hands on either of Janus’ biceps.

Mute, Deceit nods. “It was harder than I thought it’d be.” He shrugs in Virgil’s direction. “Sorry I gave you a hard time for it, before.”

Virgil’s expression twists and he buries his fingers in Janus’ awful case of hat hair. Anxiety laughs as Deceit makes an abortive noise and tries to swat him away. “Water. Bridge,” says Virgil, making a flowing motion with his free arm. 

“Besides, you totally lost at Jenga,” says Remus.

“What!?” Janus’ head snaps up and they turn as a collective to finally acknowledge the scattered wooden pieces across the table. “Sssson of a-”

“Sorry, Jan. But you know the rules: loser cleans up.” Virgil stifles most of his laughter behind an over-long sleeve before tugging Deceit back towards the table, Remus following close behind. 

Deceit hisses over his shoulder, but Virgil is pretending not to hear as he and Remus retake their positions on the couch. Or at least, Remus sits on the couch. Virgil, in his strange little aversion to normal sitting convention, has planted himself on the floor, cross-legged and using the seat cushion as a back. “Rematch with Mario Bros?” Virgil calls over his shoulder, waving an Atari controller over his head.

“Not on your life, you little shadow gremlin!” Janus calls from where he is furiously stacking Jenga pieces into a well worn, taped-together box.

Virgil grins. “Sweet. I go first.” As the game boots up, Janus joins them on the couch, sitting himself in the middle so that Remus can plant his legs on his lap. Virgil shifts ever so slightly, leaning his shoulder against Deceit’s leg.

As Virgil begins his first round, Deceit clears his throat. “By the way, Remus?”

“Hm?” Remus shifts his focus from experimentally changing the color of Janus’ hair, pausing on a particularly bright shade of pink. 

“I might have- um, how best to put this…”

“You called Roman the evil twin, didn’t you,” says Virgil, only paying half attention and jerking the controller in his hands in a vain attempt to give his little 8 bit Mario more of a boost. 

Janus flinches a bare second before Remus’ outraged gasp and doesn’t bother dodging the throwing star chucked at him. At least this particular one is made of foam, and simply pelts him on the side of the face before dropping to the ground. “You didn’t!”

“It certainly wasn’t implied,” says Deceit, the last bit unsteady as Remus plants a foot on his shoulder and starts kicking.

 _“Hey!”_ Virgil snaps, voice going Dark for a second before focusing back on the game. “No kicking while I’m sitting here. You’re throwing off my groove.”

Remus ignores him and continues doing his best to leave a heel-shaped bruise on Deceit’s arm. “You jerk! THAT’S. MY. HARD. WON. TITLE!”

“Yes, well!” Janus pauses for a second and Remus halts his kicking for a moment as he watches the human side of the snake’s face burn scarlet. “He just- he laughed at me.”

On screen, Mario dies in a sea of boiling lava. Virgil drops the controller and crawls up to perch on the couch arm like he’s spider-man or something. _“He did what?”_

Janus picks at the scales on the side of his face. “It was all very stressful. I get it, but he just flat out laughed at me.”

“Ooh.” Remus stuffs a fist against his mouth and gnaws on one of his knuckles. “Smooth move there, Princey,” he says, wincing on his twin’s behalf. “Bet that didn’t go over well. I rescind my kicks, Jan-Jan.”

Deceit gives a pointed stare to the heel still dug into his bicep. “How gracious of you.”

“Need me to tear him a new one?” asks Virgil, playing with the drawstring of his hoodie. “You know I’ve got literally ALL the dirt on him. I don’t mind going full Dark side for a bit.”

Janus snorts, reaching over to poke Virgil’s forehead. “Appreciated. But, no.” 

Virgil shrugs, tipping himself over so that he’s laying in a V-shape, legs thrown over the couch arm and back propped up by Deceit. “Whatever. He’s probably kicking himself right about now, anyway.” With a slight reach he manages to pluck the Atari controller from the ground and hands it to Janus. “You wanna go next?”

“Thank you, dear.” Janus starts up a fresh round and leans forward slightly, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he begins to concentrate. 

On the opposite side, Remus stretches his arms and sighs. “It’ll be fine. Give Roman a couple hours, Patton can do his thing, and then we’ll send Virgie to go smooth things the rest of the way over,” he says, sinking deeper into the couch cushion as he does so. 

Virgil throws a glare across Deceit to Remus. “What am I, an olive branch?”

Remus blows Anxiety a kiss and says, “Nah, more like the carrot to my stick.” When Virgil’s expression only darkens, Remus shrugs. “Not my fault Kid’s Meal likes you so much.”

Anxiety rolls his eyes. “Fine. But you still owe me Logan’s unicorn onesie.”

Deceit fumbles a jump and only makes it halfway up the flagpole at the end of his current level. “He what?”

“You didn’t happen to impersonate Virgil while you were up there, did you?” asks Remus.

Deceit’s human eyebrow lifts. “Of course I did.”

“Well, poop.” Remus lets his head droop off the couch. “Fine. I’m sure I can sneak into his room through the trash shoot.”

Virgil and Janus both cant their heads. “Logan has a trash shoot?” asks Virgil.

“Yep,” says Remus.

Anxiety huffs. “Of course you would know that.”

Janus laughs, going back to focus on running the gauntlet through one of Bowser’s castles while Virgil and Remus trade barbs off his sides. The verbal shots fired from Virgil’s direction are especially pointed this evening, a careful reminder that despite their best efforts to sequester him away and distract him with an impromptu game night, Anxiety must still be processing the incredible amount of stress Thomas has worked up over the past month. He’ll have to thank Remus later for keeping him occupied while Deceit dealt with things upstairs. It’s a touch of warmth in Janus’ cold, reptilian chest to realize that even with the wedding so fresh in all their minds, the three of them can still have this. They are Dark Sides after all, they’re a hardy bunch.

“I love you guys,” says Janus, apropos of nothing.

The two quit arguing for a moment before Remus laughs and pokes at Janus’ cheek with his big toe. “Aw, look who’s being a sentimental snake boy. Don’t worry, we love you too, Janey-poo.”

Virgil doesn’t go so far as to make any physical display of affection, but his cheeks do go red as he pulls the hood over his head. “Yeah,” he mutters, not looking either of them in the eye. “Ditto.”

They continue their round robin marathon of games throughout the rest of the night. And when the creeping light of dawn threatens to put an end to their arrangement of a five-hundred piece jigsaw puzzle -upside down, screw you Remus- Virgil pulls out his black-out curtains to extend the night just a little bit longer. The rest of the world can wait for them to join it when they’re good and ready.


End file.
